


gwilym lee blurbs — smut

by laedymoonarchive



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:21:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26264899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laedymoonarchive/pseuds/laedymoonarchive
Summary: a collection of multiple smut blurbs/headcannons abt brian may
Relationships: Gwilym Lee/Reader, Gwilym Lee/You
Kudos: 6





	gwilym lee blurbs — smut

**Author's Note:**

> \--- this is a repost of content originally published on my tumblr. i no longer use it and am slowly getting rid of my posts, so everything i've written is being archived here ---

**request: imma hit you with classic college professor gwil, its like a staple of the fandom at this point**

prof gwil can fucking get it and a half.

just imagine walking into your english lit class and seeing _that_. like, how could you possibly be expected to concentrate on the early works of shakespeare with all the chiseled jawlines and equally sharp intellect.

you’re definitely not the only student of his - girl or boy - who’s enthralled by his class. and although professor lee’s an excellent teacher, it’s not the syllabus that routinely has you perched on the edge of your seat.

and although you’ll maintain it’s a complete coincidence if anyone should ask, it’s utterly deliberate that the days when professor lee’s class is on your roster are the days your shortest skirts get dug out of your wardrobe.

it’s entirely unsustainable. you know you won’t be able to make it through the year if you keep squandering class time staring at professor lee’s tanned, muscled forearms as he shoves up his shirt sleeves mid-spiel.

you could almost bang your head against your desk in frustration the day he sidles in with circular glasses perched on his aquiline nose. and when you do rest your eyes, it’s only to allow yourself the occasional daydream.

perching on the edge of your professor’s desk one evening after class. listening to gwilym lecture you on gothic conventions in his gruff, yet modulated tone while his gestural fingers dance up your thighs. mocking you with raised eyebrows and teasing circles on your clit.

“y/n?” you feel soft taps on your back just as your dream reaches its climax. “class is over.”

\--------------

**request: maybe like reunion sex with our dear gwil 🥺🥺 like he’s been away on a trip and he comes back early to surprise you or something ❤️❤️**

aw he would wouldn’t he, soft boy that he is. so he’s been off (perhaps visiting joe in america? you’ve teasingly questioned gwilym many a time on whether you should be genuinely concerned by their intimate bromance. he’s rejected these claims. for the most part.) and you’ve been missing him for a week and half.

you weren’t expecting him home until friday, and so you’re alarmed when you hear the sound of keys in the door late tuesday evening. you’ve been in the bath, and are yet to get dressed, having been lying on your bed wrapped in an uncomfortably damp towel, scrolling through your phone for the last twenty minutes.

you jerk up at the sound (noise travels fast in your modest apartment - you’d refused to let gwil put up the rent for some extravagant place after he hit a couple of big roles. besides, you like your cosy little space. especially the single bathroom, which makes joint showers exquisitely frequent whenever gwilym stays the night).

“love?” you hear from the front door. you hastily re-wrap your towel around you and duck out into the hallway.

“gwilym?” you say.

he looks slightly rumpled from the plane, but he smells the same, and his ankles are poking out of his trousers in that endearing fashion. keeping a precarious hand on your towel, you throw yourself at him, wrapping an arm around his neck.

“hi gorgeous,” he says. and then, when you’ve stepped apart and he’s run his eyes over you, “didn’t have to dress up for me.”

“piss off.” you smack his shoulder with a grin. “what are you doing back home?”

“i missed you. _and_ joe wanted to come back with me and see ben before he goes off to amsterdam.”

“where is he?”

“my place. he thought we might want some alone time.” gwilym says. his hand has left the handle of his suitcase and is now tracing the seam of your towel, where it meets your bare skin.

“he’s so considerate.”

“he’s so _right_ ,” gwilym says, his hand on your jaw and his mouth pressed against your neck.

you let the towel drop to your waist, swallowing gwilym’s whine at the sight of your bare breasts with a kiss, standing on your tip toes so you can do it good and proper.

and well, you’re already so close to undress, and you can feel him pressing into your thigh, and what better way to say _i missed you, i love you, i’m so glad you’re back_ than a few hours of earnest shagging?

so that’s how you spend the rest of the night, only leaving the bedroom close to two am to retrieve the sodden towel you’d left crumpled in the hallway.

\--------------

**request: FUCKING GWIL WITH HIM IN HIS BRI COSTUME ILL SAY IT AHHH**

and you’ve always been a bit of an admirer of brian; he wasn’t ever a primary fantasy of your teen years, but you’ve always considered him, as your mum would put it, a spunk.

so there was another element to your excitement when gwilym received the news of his role. apart from the delirious pride on behalf of his blossoming career, jitters at the prospect of meeting ben hardy (your favourite actor on your favourite guilty pleasure; eastenders), you were more than eager to see your boyfriend decked out as brian.

the first day gwilym invited you to set was the live aid rehearsal scene. it was the first time you’d seen him as brian outside of the selfies that dominated your text conversations. and the reality didn’t disappoint. the hair was fabulous, of course, and the tiny white shorts weren’t a cause for complaint either. gwilym was perhaps a little broader, a little more built, but other than that, he looked the spitting image of a young, handsome, dishy brian.

you could hardly wait until he had a decent break, and you could drag him into the first confined space you came across.

“the hells gotten into you?” he laughed as you fiddled with the buttons on his shirt and nipped at his chest.

“you. this costume.” you said. you groaned when you had no luck with his buttons, and he pushed you away with a kiss, undoing them himself deftly.

“we don’t have much time. s’gonna take me a second to get his wig off and i won’t be known as that prick who was late to shoot because he was shagging in the portable loos.”

“leave it on,” you panted, setting your sights on gwilym’s shorts now that his shirt lay on the sink behind you.

“seriously?” he tilted your jaw up to look at him properly from your half squat on the cramped floor.

“seriously. now get your cock out.” gwilym laughed, then shushed himself, and then complied. you pushed the flaps of white denim aside to kitten lick the tip of his cock, but he deterred you.

“no time for that,” gwilym said, pulling you up from the floor. it was hot, and fucking stuffy, and you could hear the set bustling outside, but gwilym looked so insanely angelic standing before you, even as he swore at a condom wrapper that wouldn’t tear. he leant you against the sink after he finally conquered it, tugging your trousers down to your knees, his hands finding your arse without missing a beat.

“fuck me already, brain may,” you breathed, and you were only half joking. gwilym eased inside you with a moan that came out choked through his laughter.

you dropped your head back against the plastic wall of the cubicle, biting your sleeve to muffle your exclamations. usually you wouldn’t finish so quickly, if it all, from such a sloppy, hasty fuck. but gwilym, with his long legs in those shorts, and the mane of hair you carded your hands through and through as he rutted his hips against yours, had you climaxing in minutes.

“christ,” gwilym groaned as he came after you, his glistening chest heaving and his cock slick with your release.

and when you’d finished, cleaned yourselves up as best you could (it was alright for gwil; he had a team of fucking professionals ready and waiting to make him look like he hadn’t just had a quick shag in a portable loo), you headed back to set. and fuck, you don’t think you’ve ever blushed as much as you did when brian may approached you to formally introduce himself.

\--------------

**request: I feel like Gwil would have a /thing/ for eye contact. Like the two of you must always be making eye contact whether he’s eating you out, you’re sucking his dick, or he’s fucking you deep and slow or hard and fast. And though it breaks the eye contact, there’s nothing he loves more than watching your eyes roll into the back of your head as you come undone -hoe (@queenmylovely)**

he’s always quietly demanding you _keep your eyes on me, my love,_ while he’s tangled between your legs. gently tilting your jaw upwards when he’s standing above your kneeling form. training his gaze on you while he’s steadying your shaking hips. because gwilym loves to see what he’s doing to you. he loves to see your eyelids flutter in delicate pleasure, the corners crinkle when he nips at your thighs, and roll back when it’s too much to look at him, and you’ve lost which way’s up in the trembling euphoria. and that’s the only time he gives you reprieve; when you’re truely, properly coming undone.

\--------------

**request: can we just have a lil blurb on like. how good gwil SOUNDS when you suck him off**

  * mmm
  * he’s all composed and low grunts at the beginning, but he can’t help but lose himself the closer he gets
  * like, he starts off in that smooth, considered voice of his; encouraging murmers of ‘ _good girl_ ’
  * but as you continue, moans start to break his even timbre
  * and his voice becomes a little more breathy, interspersed with low whines that you’d never expected a man with his apparent composure to emit
  * and his thighs shake beneath your hands, knuckles turning white as he grips whatever he can to anchor himself
  * and it’s odd, because though he’s almost always the more dominant of the two of you, a blowie is one space in which he prefers you to take control
  * gwil likes to let go, let you take over, make him unravel
  * you hum around his cock, a tip you’ve picked up that makes deepthroating somewhat easier and drives gwilym positively wild
  * he moans, voice breaking, usually an empassioned and breathless _jesus fucking christ_ or a shout of your name, every syllable emphasised
  * and cums down your throat
  * heavy pants and breathless praise are what you hear next, as you run a hand across your mouth



\--------------

**request: gwil 100% is the most distracting man when you’ve got to get ready for work and he doesn’t want you to leave but he disguises it by ‘helping’ you like he sees you putting on your bra he’ll fix the clasp for you but not before making sure he’s running his fingers down your spine and leaving open mouth kisses across your shoulder before his hands move to grip your hips and suddenly you’re calling in sick for the day**

and it’s frustrating, perhaps, because it took so much willpower to drag yourself away from gwil and his warm bed, and now he’s doing everything in his handsome, stubbled, gentle power to pull you right back.

 _gwilym_ , you groan as you feel his arms encircle your waist from behind. _i’m trying to put on my knickers._

you scold him once more as he places delicate kisses on your shoulders while zipping you up, morning stubble grazing the delicate skin. and again when he strategically strokes your hip in the bathroom, blaming the caress on his flat’s cramped interior with faux innocence.

but all of your complaints are halfhearted, veiled heavily with a sense of _while_ _i’m telling you to piss off, but i don’t really want you to._

and before you know it, you’re calling into work from bed, gwilym looking smug and satisfied curled up next to you, his hand resting on your inner thigh.

\--------------

**request: Gwils beard grazing your thighs as he eats you out.**

  * and it’s kind of ticklish
  * not in the fashion that makes you laugh but that which is electrifying, and makes you arch your back off the bed
  * you know he finds it amusing
  * and he knows it’s the best way to tease you; to make you wet without properly touching you
  * and although he denies it, you know he skips a shave whenever the two of you’ve got an evening alone together planned out



\--------------

**request: gwil LOVES eating pussy. there’s no where he enjoys being more than in between ur thighs 🥺🤚🏼🤚🏼🤚🏼**

  * mm. quite. on weekends especially, after he’s spent the night at yours
  * you’re both a little achy from the night before, still fairly wound up
  * and his hand’ll grip your inner thigh and work it’s way north, making you moan contentedly into the warm linen
  * his teasing never lasts long tho - the anticipation’s as trialing for him as it is for you
  * **and** not only does he love eating you out, he’s fucking _godly_ at it
  * gwil’s tongue is lazy yet strategic, drawing every drop out of you
  * he knows how to have you on edge for hours, never letting the coil in your abdomen unravel completely, yet offering just enough reward and reprieve to keep you deliciously warm and needy
  * and when he’ll finally emerge, he’s adorably pink cheeked and slightly bedraggled. you’ll finger comb his hair back into place affectionately, praising him for the satisfied hum between your thighs




End file.
